Repeating History
by Princess Pinky
Summary: It's the first day of the last chapter of John Juergens's life: his Senior Year. Unfortunately for him, it's also the first day of his baby sister's Freshman year and like any big brother, he feels responsible for her, even if she isn't a baby anymore.
1. Chapter One

**A/N:** This is a story I came up with a while back. Basically, it's a look into the life of the next generation of Grant High kids, the offspring and such of the characters we already know and love. I really shouldn't be posting this, since I already have a lot of other things I should be doing, but I will try to update. This involves a whole story that I started several months ago. Please enjoy...

_**Repeating History**_

**Chapter One**

"Hey, John!"

"John…"

The chorus of feminine voices wasn't unusual for John Juergens. Throughout his entire high school career – and even in as far back as middle school when the first inklings of appreciation for the opposite sex had begun to blossom – he'd been a tourist attraction for the fairer gender…and even a few who weren't so _fair_.

He had to blame it on his parents. Or more precisely, his _father_: John had inherited the most from Ricky Underwood, who back in the day, had been a legend of a ladies' man himself. The silk voice box, the always-stays-in-place thick head of bourbon hued hair, no-maintenance six-pack abs, and a stylistic swagger that he'd heard described over and over in different high school clicks as _floating_. It seemed that the only trait he'd inherited from his mother was her youthful face, and as he'd quickly figured out over the years, having a _baby face_ – with thin eyebrows, as opposed to his dad's finger thick ones – was _much_ to his advantage.

John stopped at a water fountain and tucked his head slightly. A red light scanned over his full lips and a faint hum came from the fountain. He opened his mouth and an ice cold stream of water sprouted from the fountain and onto his tongue. He curled his lips and sucked in the water. Briefly, the thought of the push fountains he'd used as a kid sprang into his mind. He could remember his grandmother always warning him not to put his mouth to the nozzle because there was no way to tell what kind of germs might be on it. Sometimes it amazed him how much change there had been between now, at eighteen, and then, at only five.

"_Heeey, Johnny,"_ a sassy voice cajoled from behind him.

John rolled his lukewarm brown eyes, but didn't bother to look up. He knew who it was. Her name was Carlotta Tañag. Being half Italian and half Filipino with lustrous obsidian hair that fell all the way down to her thighs and honey glazed olive skin, she was perhaps one of the most exotic girls he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. The problem was that while he was certainly turned on by that, he harbored no feelings – not even a crush – for her whatsoever, and after discovering his father's early history with women, John had promised never to lead on a girl that he didn't have genuine feelings for.

"Well aren't you going to say hi?" she whispered, her hot breath suddenly on the back of his neck. Immediately, her manicured fingertips followed, walking along his curved spine like a pair of Barbie feet.

John pulled his head up and the water hummed and stopped as it registered that his face was no longer in front of the scanner. _"Lotta,"_ he spoke, pronouncing his nickname for her in the suave way his father used to use to sweet talk a woman. "Don't you have boys you should be teasing right now?"

"You know you're the only boy I want to tease." She raised her finger to his cheek, but John caught it with a swift pitch of his arm.

"We've talked about this," he explained, his voice hardening ever so poignantly. "You're hot as hell. You'd melt the devil," he winked, "but you and me…we're not compatible."

Carlotta puckered her thin, glossy lips into a pout. "Oh Johnny Boy, you'll come around, I promise. By the end of the year…" she wagged her finger.

"_Mhmm."_

"Always the skeptic." She sidestepped him and was about to walk away when she turned and smacked the palm of her hand against the cheek of his tight black jeans. She smirked. "Been working out, I see!" she called as she sashayed off into the sea of high schoolers.

John groaned to himself. With his luck, they'd end up going to the same university too, and then he'd have to deal with her utterly charming antics there too. As much as he enjoyed the attention, though, he really didn't relish the idea of hurting her one day when he would have to put an end to her flirting for good.

"Yo, John!" A boy just an inch or so shorter than John trotted up from the mesh of students, wearing a disheveled faded orange backpack on one arm and an oversized brown t-shirt with the phrase _Shift Happens_ on the front. The kid had a thick head of brown hair not unlike John's, but with an auburn hue that was especially noticeable in the right light. The most obvious difference was that his was longer though, shoulder length, and had wavy curls that had the tendency to make people looking at him from behind assume he was a girl.

"Rob," John grinned. "Any luck with the schedule change?"

"Computer Graphics, third period!" he bragged, proudly holding up his new and improved junior class schedule. Robbie Juergens was what some might call a computer geek, which became apparent to most within five minutes of talking to him, but John knew better. Robbie was a digital artist and he knowing computers simply came with the territory. "What's the matter?" he inquired, noticing just then the fidgety way John was suddenly acting after having glanced at his wristwatch.

John's anxieties weren't often noticeable, at least not to the general public. But Robbie and John had special bond that made them each more perceptive to the other. Technically speaking, Robbie was John's uncle, even though they were only seven months apart, John being the elder, but because they'd been so close in age, they'd more or less been raised as brothers, and that was how they'd always treated each other.

"It's getting late." The older Juergens looked up from his watch with a slightly worried expression on his face. "You haven't seen Tonnie, have you?"

Robbie smirked. "No, but I'm sure she'll be here. She shouldn't want to be late on her first day, now would she?"

"I wouldn't put her to be 'fashionably late,'" he remarked with irritation.

"Come on!" Robbie slapped his nephew's arm. "You're just being the overprotective big brother," he laughed. "Ya gotta let the youngins have their space."

"She did have space," he snorted. "All summer long at that stupid Latina Heritage Retreat." He shook his head. "I still can't even believe Dad let her go! She's still just a baby. Too young to be off all summer on her own-"

"Oh come on," Robbie butt in. "Don't be an old stick in the mud. You know she's not a baby, she's growing up, she's going into high school for cryin' out loud! And it's not like she could've gotten into too much trouble there anyway, it was an all girls' retreat as 'Latina' would imply." He folded his arms smugly, tucking his schedule underneath his armpit. "I think you're just mad because she got to go away all summer and yet you had to stay here and busy yourself with university and scholarship apps instead of having fun."

John growled under his breath. "Don't give me that look! That'll be you this summer, you know. It'll make you a cranky dipshit too."

"Well thank you," Robbie smirked. "Thank you for admitting you're being a cranky dipshit."

John opened his mouth to rebut when the doors at the end of the hall opened up and stole his attention away. "Finally!" he breathed, before jogging off toward the double doors to greet his little sister. "Tonnie!"

"I told you not to call me that!"

Her steel whisper halted John in his tracks. He took a moment to look her up and down and he thought she looked much older than she had just two and a half months ago. But then again, it could always just be his imagination playing tricks on him. Or maybe it was her in the high school setting that did it. Either way, she was different somehow.

Physically, not much had changed. She was still the same five foot one inch little sister with the sun kissed Latina skin and penetrating chestnut brown eyes that he remembered. Her long hair still rivaled the beauty of an uncut sheet of onyx – although it might be a few inches longer than he last remembered – and the same biting voice still came from the same pouty pink, though not quite Angelina Jolie – lips that he remembered.

"It's _Antonia_," she went on when he didn't say anything. The accent she shared with her mother hitched on her name, catching it like a fish on a baited hook. "I'm in high school now," she elaborated. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"You'll always be a kid to me," John snapped without thinking about it.

"Whoa there, buddy," Robbie said as he caught up to the two of them. He waved light heartedly to Antonia while simultaneously slapping John on the chest and pushing him away to create distance between the siblings. "Be nice, man. She's got a point. You didn't like Amy calling you Johnny by the time you got into high school, you know, so you oughtta think about that before being a jerk."

Antonia passed a grateful smile to Robbie. When John wasn't looking she mouthed a silent 'thank you,' which was promptly returned, and proceeded to shove her hands into the pockets of her turquoise dress. It was a layered number with extensive ruching detail, though the top of the dress from the waist on up was hidden by her black cashmere sweater, which was highlighted with intricate turquoise Chinese beadwork.

"Nervous?" Robbie asked. He'd only been standing with her a few minutes, but she was already quieter than usual. "Antonia?"

"Huh?" Her eyes flicked back and forth until the question seemed to blink on like a light bulb with a short inside her mind. "Oh," she laughed, "yeah. Sorry. Just…thinking." She shook her head, looking uncomfortable. "Big school, big changes…no Sarah."

Robbie smiled sympathetically. Sarah was John's _other_ sister, but by Amy's side, which also made her Robbie's niece. She was only eleven months younger than Antonia, and while they weren't technically related except _indirectly_ through John, they'd ended up growing up quite close – like sisters – given John's family situation.

Sarah would be starting high school next year during Robbie's senior year, but until then, Antonia was going to have to brave the halls of Ulysses S. Grant without her soul sister, which wasn't the easiest feat, considering she really didn't have any friends outside of Sarah, and visa versa. Like her mother, Antonia had always been more of a loner.

"I have to go," Antonia mumbled.

"Ton-" John struggled to correct himself upon his sister's searing glare, "Antonia, wait! I haven't even gotten a chance to talk to you. How was your-"

"I have to go," she repeated with more urgency than before. "I still need to find my locker and homeroom." She skirted around Robbie and waved as she dashed off down the hall. "I'll see you later!"

John huffed and slouched forward, his five foot nine frame suddenly losing a good two inches with his poor posture. "What is with her?"

"Teen girls?" Robbie offered. He winked. "Sisters?" As the class bell rang, he slugged his nephew's arm. "Gotta run. I'll meet up with you at lunch, alright?"

"Sure." John griped, though he noticed Robbie probably hadn't heard him because the younger boy was already blending into the sea of people. With a dragon-like snarl, he turned and chugged back down the hallway, heading towards the gym for first period baseball. As he neared the locker room, a petite strawberry-blonde passed by him and his eyes perked up. "Darcy?"

The girl in question turned at the sound of her name. She had a soft, heart shaped face and bright eyes. The right was visibly blue, but the left was a golden-green. She was famous around the school for it, because it seemed nobody else had two vastly different colored eyes. But it was something John found particularly attractive. "Hey," he smiled meekly. "Long time no see."

Darcy paused in the hallway, barely looking John in the eye. "Yeah…"

"Is uh…how are you?"

Darcy's cheeks flushed as she turned her attention to her worn sneakers. "Fine…"

"How was your summer?" he prodded.

Her voice quavered in time with her thin lips. "It was…as well as a summer at Bible camp could be."

John bowed his head as guilt rushed over him. The last time he'd seen Darcy had been the day school ended in June, when he'd brought her home. Her parents had caught them in a _compromising position_ and had banned him from their house. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Darcy shook her head. "I'm going to be late," she said, still not looking at him. Her sneakers squeaked as she shuffled away from him.

John hitched a breath, aching to say more to her, but knowing it would be useless. His stomach felt numb as the late bell rang. "Great!" he hissed, realizing he was now officially tardy. His new tennis shoes squealed as he tore into the boys' locker room, hoping Coach would be lenient on him since it was the first day back.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N:** New chapter. Please enjoy!

**_Repeating History_**

**Chapter Two**

"Mind if I sit here?"

Antonia tilted her head back to gaze at the face to which the feminine voice making such an inquiry belonged. Somehow the girl seemed familiar, but she just couldn't quite place her in any exact memory in her head.

Her face was long, what some might say is akin to a purebred mare, with an unusually wide forehead that was mostly covered by glossy obsidian bangs. The remainder of her hair was fairly long and equally as thick and wavy as her bangs, traveling in droves past her breast and ending halfway down her torso. It contrasted beautifully with her café macchiato skin tone.

Antonia found herself unable to keep her eyes off of the girl's face, however: her nose was long, slightly broadened around the nostrils, but nothing that deterred from her natural beauty; her lips ample and smooth like a ripe plum; her teeth mind bogglingly straight and gleaming like iridescent pearls in the night; and her eyes…a pre-sea storm gray. Only when the girl began to speak again did Antonia realize she'd been dumbly staring at her the whole time.

"Never mind," she retracted uncomfortably. "Sorry I bothered-"

"It's fine!" the latter blurted out. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, but luckily for her, her mother's Latina genetics were a natural cover for embarrassing blushes. "You just," she shook her head and stared down at her cafeteria tray, "it's stupid, sorry. You just look familiar," she mumbled into her lunch.

The girl breezed onto the bench at the table across from the Latina. "I don't know how that's possible," she laughed. "I just moved here."

"Where did you live before?"

"Zimbabwe," she replied as she picked up her milk and thrust the straw through the top. "My father was a doctor there." She sipped her two percent and studied the other girl's curious reaction. "Doctors Without Borders," she explained when she finally set her miniature milk carton down.

Antonia bit into her apple. "Oh." She mulled over the confession as she chewed the soft flesh of the Snow White fruit. "That sounds…_interesting_."

"I know you're just saying that to be nice," she laughed. "Trust me, it's not a life most people would choose, but my parents were happy with it. Well, my _father_ was happy with it. I never knew really knew my mom. And I liked it well enough. It's an amazing culture. Sad, but amazing. So different from the states." Pitching forward so that her stomach was arched against the edge of the table, she held her hand across the table to Antonia. "I'm Treacy, by the way."

"Treacy," Antonia repeated, caught off guard. "That's not a name you hear that often. In fact, I don't think I've _ever_ heard it."

"Probably because it's more commonly a surname. It has Irish and Gaelic roots; means 'warlike,' ironically enough. My dad always says that if my mom had known that at the time I was born, she probably never would've agreed to give me the name, but," she shrugged carelessly, "what's done is done, ya know."

"Antonia," the Latina replied with a friendly smile. "And for what it's worth, I like it. It's cool. More interesting than, I dunno, 'Hope' or 'Faith' or 'Tracy,'" she giggled.

"Actually," Treacy replied, drawing a serious expression. "My mother considered both of the first two. 'Hope' was two seconds away from becoming my middle name, actually. But my dad stepped in and suggested what actually became my middle name – thank goodness – and the rest, as they say, is history!"

"What did he suggest?"

"'Marsha.' It was in honor of my grandfather; he died long before I was ever a twinkle in my parents' eyes, but he and my mom were pretty close, so I'm told."

"I'm sorry," Antonia replied instantaneously. Her mind reflected on her own name: the namesake of her mother's first love, who had died of cancer – the only reason her parents were together and she sitting here today.

"Don't be," Treacy replied, her stone polished skin glinting in the early August sunlight. "Like I said, it never affected me." She shrugged as massaged her ranch dressing packet with her long, nimble fingers and then tore open the top to drizzle along her green salad.

"So uh, just out of curiosity," Antonia mused, "why did your parents give you a surname instead of a first name?" She looked down at her cafeteria tray, thinking only after the words left her mouth that she might be asking too many questions. "If I'm not being too nosy."

"Not at all," the coffee skinned girl replied. She swirled her salad with her fork. "It was my dad's last name." At Antonia's surprised look, she snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I know, most of the time you inherit your dad's last name," she agreed, "but not in my family! My Grandma is a hardcore feminist and believes that if a woman carries a child for nine months and does all the hard work of giving birth, the kid damn well better get her last name! 'No ifs, ands, or buts about it!'" She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes in a squinty glare, imitating what Antonia assumed to be Treacy's grandmother. "And that's how my dad and aunt ended up with my grandmother's last name instead of my grandfather's. And consequently – if not a little oddly – my dad grew up with the same ideology, so I took my mom's last name, but my mom – being ever the traditionalist – thought differently, so 'Treacy Bowman' became their compromise."

_Bowman._ The name rang funny in her mind. _I've heard that somewhere before, but I can't remember where._ Antonia closed her eyes. Strangely, she could've sworn it had to do with her mother, but for the life of her, she just couldn't place her finger on it. It was like Treacy's general appearance: something about her just smacked of déjà vu.

"That's cool," she replied lamely, when she realized that Treacy was staring at her, awaiting a response. "My brother's mom did that with him. Not because she was an ultra feminist or whatever, but just because she and my dad were in high school when they had him and they weren't married or anything – not even in a relationship, actually – so she felt that she should be able to give him her last name instead of his."

"I think it's cool," Treacy nodded. "I'm not crazy X-core about it like my grandma, but she is right, we are the ones that do all the hard work. Guys do what?" Her gray eyes rolled back behind their lids. "Grunt and get off scot free for nine months? So unfair!"

Antonia set her apple onto her tray with an uncomfortable clearing of her throat. "Yeah," she agreed, reaching for her juice box. "Unfair."

_"Sooo,"_ Treacy breathed, changing tactics. "Now that we've heard all about me, how about you? You a Freshman, too?"

"You're a Freshman?" she sputtered, surprised. "I would've thought you were a Sophomore."

"I get that all the time. But nope! I'm just tall for my age. I should actually be in eighth, but I skipped a grade." She shrugged. "My parents were good home schoolers. Anyway," she shook her head, "sneaky, you!" She wagged her finger punishingly. "Getting the focus back on me again. About _you_: Freshman or no?"

"Freshman," Antonia confirmed. "Not that I want to be, mind you. My best friend, Sarah, she's in eighth and still at the middle school. I-" she slouched her arms and exhaled noisily "-I don't have any friends here. Besides my brother, who's a Senior this year. But he doesn't really count."

"Oh," Treacy replied knowingly. "He's the overprotective kind," she nodded. "I know that look. My aunt would get it all the time when she'd tell me stories about her and my dad as kids."

_"Exactly."_ Antonia exhaled. "He's like an eighteen-year-old version of my dad. And you know what? I don't need a second dad! I just need a friend."

Treacy flashed her iridescent grin. "Well," she began brightly, "I'm friendless too. If we form a pact, we could take care of that little problem right here, right now."

Antonia couldn't help but mirror Treacy's expression: her enthusiasm was like a happy disease. And strangely enough, Antonia found herself smiling her biggest, truest smile in weeks. She caught Treacy's hand slithering across the table towards her.

"Shake on it?"

"Sure," the Latina found herself agreeing. "Why not?" she took Treacy's hand in her own – a welcomingly sun warmed hand, she noted – and shook it. _A friend other than Sarah! What a concept!_ Though she'll probably be jealous…

"I'm guessing that sound means lunch is over?" Treacy asked as the school bell tolled and student after student were slowly packing up and heading towards the doors around them.

"Yeah." She picked up the left strap of her backpack one handedly and slung it over her shoulder before clutching the sides of her tray as she rose from the red bench seat.

"What class do you have next?"

"Health."

Treacy wriggled her thin black eyebrows brightly. "Cartwright?"

"She's the only Health teacher," Antonia explained.

"Looks like you're in luck then," Treacy grinned playfully. She elbowed Antonia in the side as they walked, causing the latter to wince, unbeknownst to the younger girl. "We've got a class together!"

_Maybe high school doesn't suck as much as I thought_, Antonia mentally mused as her new friend grabbed one of the double doors and held it open for her to walk inside. "Thanks."

"No prob." Treacy chirped as she followed Antonia inside and followed her to the cafeteria, where they both dropped off their dirty trays. "So where's Health?"

"This way." She pointed as they walked; trying to keep her eyes straight ahead and not accidentally looking at any one person. Though she could feel all of their gazes on her: she knew she was her mother's daughter – well, and her _father's_ – and that was the reason for some of them. But she also knew that Ulysses S. Grant was just as gossipy as it had been in her parents' day and being the little sister of the very prominent John Juergens was the majority of the other reason she could feel people looking at her. Unlike John, she didn't handle hordes of attention well and unlike Sarah, she unlike her baby brother, Lee, she _hated_ to be the center of anything.

"You seem a little nervous," Treacy whispered.

"It's nothing," she lied. "First day jitters."

"Ditto that."

"You don't look nervous."

"I'm a good actress," she replied, dramatically flicking her hair. "I'm thinking of taking up theater. Does Grant have a good drama club?"

"Dunno. I'm not much into theatrics. I don't like people." Antonia motioned her hand, signaling a turn up the stairs.

"Fair enough." Treacy practically skipped into the Health room behind Antonia, just as the tardy bell sounded. She took note of the tables, each marked by an infant carrier. As she slid into her seat next to her new friend, she turned to whisper a question, but – as if she'd read her mind – she was met with Antonia's hushed answer instead.

"It's kind of ironic," Antonia whispered. "A few years after my brother's mom and a few other girls at the school ended up pregnant, the school changed their take-home-baby lesson plan to the first Health project for Freshmen." She shrugged sarcastically.

"If their goal was to scare you out of having sex, you'd think they'd roll it back to middle school before everyone chucked their v-cards over the summer," Treacy smirked as Mrs. Cartwright scrawled her name onto the white board and began to lecture as she wrote.

Antonia fixed her eyes on the teacher as she began to come around with the strikingly realistic baby dolls for the assignment. "Truer words have never been spoken," she mumbled just loud enough for her new friend to hear.


End file.
